If life is a bowl of cherries why am I in the pits?

Life just isn't as rosy as Pop's cherries. We've had yet another bugger of a week that ended on a very sad note.

Although we thought the Great Flood had abated, how wrong were we? Picture this - Friday night, 5.30pm, all the workmen had departed for Bank Hol weekend, Fifi and I were taking our nightly perambulation around the barn.

"What's shimmering yonder, under the kitchen units?" said I.

"Water, water everywhere, a good 2 inches - where the chuff has that come from?" said Fifster.

So once again we spent the weekend trying to turn back the tide. Where's Canute when you need him? In a nutshell, or should it be seashell, the Great Flood had spread more than anyone thought so the tiles have to come up, the kitchen and dining room fully dry out - aided and abetted by two massive dehumidifiers, two over size patio heaters and an industrial aqua-hoover, the tiler and decorators return to do their stuff and then have the cooker and fridge/freezer plumbed in. We can carpet the rest of the house, start moving things in and then mark time for a couple of weeks for all of the above to happen. There'll be water (preferably not of the cascading type) and electricity but no gas as that won't be piped in for a couple of weeks either. Oh well, patience was always something I needed to work on.

This week I've had another trick-cyclist appointment and occupational therapy assessment - I'm going to be spending sessions either gardening, making things out of wood or having therapy. Sorry, customers with pre-orders, basketwork is off the menu. Apparently I said to the psychiatrist that I didn't want to be thick. I'd forgotten I said it but it's still true, reinforced by the OT appointment.

Dad's been in Germany for a week, thoroughly enjoyed until we met him at the airport and had to tell him that Benji was in hospital. He'd started fitting on Saturday night and didn't stop so we had an emergency dash to the vet who kept him in and on drugs. Given his symptoms it's probable he had a brain tumour; with the constant fitting and his advanced years there was no choice and he is no longer with us. He's been my confidante over the last few months, let me bash his ears with my verbal diaorrhea, always overjoyed to see me, kept me company in the garden and kitchen, generally been a great comfort. I miss him terribly - we all do. God bless you Benj and thanks for 18 loyal, happy and entertaining years.